A/N: I really shouldn't start another RH fic at the same time as 'Leaves of Gold'...ah well. After watching Episode 13 for what looks like the fiftieth time, and feeling horribly sorry for poor Much after what Robin said to him, I decided to start this. Much seems so unappreciated in the gang...
"To victory!"
"To…to unmarriage and undeadness!"
"To the look on Vasey's face when Robin strung him up by his shoe!"
The group of outlaws burst out laughing at Allan's latest toast, raising their various flagons and wineskins high in the air before downing the alcohol within them. No-one knew how Little John and Allan had procured so much alcohol for the night's celebrations in such a short space of time – and no-one really wanted to know. Djaq alone watched the other outlaws drink the alcohol with a small smile on her face – being forbidden by her religion to drink alcohol, she did not feel so much left out as triumphant…it would be amusing to see them all stagger to her for various hang-over remedies in the morning.
The gang sat clustered together around the campfire, the dark night's sky only serving to emphasize the glowing flames more so. Much was busying himself with cooking the dinner – both assisted and hindered by Allan and Will, who were both in high spirits. As Djaq's smile grew as her friends' antics increased, her attention passed from Allan and Will, who were throwing various pieces of food to each other over the campfire, to Much. The young outlaw was unusually quiet, concentrating more on the cooking than on the merriment around him, an unreadable look on his face. His bright eyes were unusually grim, his mouth set into a firm line. She couldn't help feeling slightly bewildered; Much had never seemed so dour before, especially when they had just won the battle that none of them had been likely to survive.
Tearing her gaze away from Much, Djaq rolled her eyes as she saw Robin stumble to his feet (albeit slightly unsteadily), ale slopping over the rim of his flagon. Despite his swaying, Djaq could tell their leader still had all his wits about him; his blue eyes still sparkling keenly.
"I would like to propose a toast," He said loudly, silencing Allan and Will's shouts of laughter, "To our gang. To the bravest, cleverest and most loyal band of men I have ever known..."
"Hear hear!" Will interrupted loudly, a very un-Will-ish grin on his face.
His best friend ruffled his hair soothingly, "I think you've had a bit too much to drink, mate."
"I am the picture of sob…sobre…sobriety," Will retorted, "You, on the other hand, are as drunk as…as something. Something very drunk."
"I am not – am not – am not…" Allan trailed off helplessly, gesturing wildly, "What comes after 'not'?"
"Drunk?" Much supplied dutifully, looking up tiredly at the young man.
"Thankyou, my boy!" Allan crowed loudly, clapped him on the back, "You're a genius, Much! A real…a real genius."
"Anyway," Robin interrupted, "As Robin was saying before he was so rudely interrupted by his impudent but loyal gang…To us. To the best group of men…"
"And women!" Little John bellowed, "Don't you go forgetting Djaq, Robin."
"To the best group of outlaws I have ever met. The most loyal, brave, intelligent, sneaky…"
"Tha'ss me!"
"That's you, Allan – The most loyal, brave, intelligent, sneaky, sly, skilled, bold…"
"Bold means brave; you said brave twice."
"You're all doubly brave, then, Will - The most loyal, brave, intelligent, sneaky, sly, skilled, bold, just, determined, righteous people I have met; who continued fighting to the very end and who did not give up when I did…"
As Robin continued reeling off adjectives to describe the gang, Much's ears had steadily been getting redder and redder, the wooden spoon that he was stirring dinner with now limp in his fingers. At the words "who did not give up when I did", the spoon finally fell straight into the stew, and Robin's manservant leapt to his feet. Before any of the gang could object, Much turned on his heel and stormed out of the camp, snatching up his cloak as he did so.
There was a moment's silence as the gang looked bewilderedly at each other, broken by Allan's confused question, "What the bloody blazes was that about?"
Robin, who could usually read his best friend's moods like a book, shrugged helplessly, "I don't know. It's not like Much to not join in the celebrations, much less storm off like that…"
"He's been acting odd ever since we got back," Little John said thoughtfully, "More than that; ever since you left us at Knighton Hall, Robin. He left for a brief time, and when he came back…"
Robin went white.
"Maybe I should…"
But Djaq had already got to her feet, hand held out to restrain their leader, "Leave it. I'll deal with Much," Without waiting for an answer, she turned and followed after Much. As soon as she was out of eye and ear-shot of the camp, she broke into a jog down the forest road, her eyes blinking rapidly to try and adjust to the dark without the aid of the campfire. Seeing Much's dark form just ahead, she ran to catch up with him, managing to grab the young man by the shoulders and yanking him around fully.
Much's eyes flashed angrily, and he attempted to shake the young Saracen woman off, "Leave me alone, Djaq."
"Much, look, I know you're upset…"
"I'm not upset! Why should I be upset? Everything is all good, we escaped, Marian escaped both death and a fate worse than death, why should I be upset? I'm happy! I'm ecstatic! What sort of person would I be if I didn't revel in the joy! And I'm revelling, Djaq, believe me."
Djaq gritted her teeth painfully and clung on to Much's arm as he turned back and continued walking, digging her heels into the ground. This meant that she was dragged a few feet, her heels scraping painfully along the ground, before Much turned and glowered darkly at her again. She was actually impressed he'd managed to drag her that far.
"You're not happy at all – look, I know you're upset. I know that – that you and Robin had some sort of disagreement, but…."
"Yes, we did have a disagreement!" The manservant snapped, "But it doesn't matter, does it? Because I'm good old, trusting, loyal Much who sticks by his master no matter what! So it doesn't matter!"
The cynical tone in which Much had snapped out the words made Djaq flinch, but she hug on doggedly none the less, "Much, please, I know what you must be going through…"
"No you don't! You don't know anything about it, Djaq! You…you don't know anything about anything!"
"Much…" And because Much's typical, childlike bluster burst out with that last, ridiculous sentence, Djaq made the biggest mistake in smiling with amusement, almost chuckling lightly.
Much's blue eyes, usually gentle and sparkling with humour, filled with a mixture of betrayal, hurt and anger, and he pulled his arm sharply out of Djaq's grasp, still looking as though she'd kicked him when he was down. She realised her mistake, the smile falling from her face, and reached for him again, trying to comfort him, make him see she hadn't been laughing at him or the situation, "Much, I didn't…"
"You leave me alone!" Much retorted, shoving her backwards so hard that her backside hit the group with a thump. Wincing, she didn't try to pull herself, sitting heavily in the roadside, "You…stop trying to get into my head, you rotten…infidel!"
The word, spat out with betrayal and anger, hurt her more than the pain in her heels and the awkward landing put together. Much had just called her an infidel, a word she'd hoped never to hear again, especially not from one of her dearest friends. Of course, during her captivity, she'd been called it before, many times, but from one of her best friends, one of her closest companions….her eyes welled with shameful tears that she tried to blink back.
Much's face filled with horror at what he'd said; and for one moment, his mouth opened, and Djaq was sure he was going to comfort her, apologise for what he'd said….but then he shook his head, dismissed the thought, and stormed off again.
Shivering, and not from the cold, Djaq managed to wait before Much was out of sight before bursting into choked sobs.
-0-0-0-
The whole world was against him. The Sheriff was definitely against him. Hood was certainly against him, as was all his ridiculously loyal outlaws. And now Marian had turned against him.
Digging his heels into the horse's sides, Guy of Gisborne spat on the ground as he rode through the forest. He shouldn't have been out so late, this time after dark, especially when Hood's outlaws would have been in such high spirits following their triumph, but….he had to get out. Get away from his thoughts.
Marian. The one person he felt he could trust; gone. Gone, left him. Right at the alter. How could she had done? Damn her. Damn her, and her concern for her father. And damn that cursed, ridiculous excuse for an outlaw, Much….Much something. The man didn't even have a last name. No title, no nothing. And yet he was responsible for ruining his life, along with Hood of course. The damned, cursed, pathetic little…
His thoughts were cut off as, on the road ahead, the miserable creature who he'd been cursing rounded into view, hands jammed into his pockets, feet pounding heavily into the ground as he stormed along the road.
Gisborne smiled, and loosened his sword in its sheath.
A/N: Will be updated soon!...I hope. Please review!!